


Tough Love

by mousemind



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Jared and Erlich working together!, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Reluctant Friendships, but a whole lot of pining, it's just a big "who loves Richard more" contest but with teamwork!, no explicit romantic interactions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4410806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousemind/pseuds/mousemind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard isn't faring well after being fired, and it might take different kinds of support to get him back on his feet. No one loves Richard more than Jared does. Except Erlich, of course.</p><p>And thus begins a begrudging alliance. (Set post-2x10)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tough Love

It's been four days.

It's been four days since Richard was fired, and he's said about six words since.

It's been four days since Richard was fired, and he's said about six words since, and one of those has been addressed to Jared ("thanks" re: a glass of water), and two of those four days were spent in his bedroom with the door locked behind him.

He's sending a pretty clear message: leave me alone. Which Dinesh and Gilfoyle are happy to do, considering they don't feel like slogging through the negativity and forced pleasantries. It isn't rude or based in some lack of interest, but between Jared's palpable concern, Erlich's grumbling insistence Richard get up and out, and the Heavy Depression Cloud that trails behind Richard into every room, there are too many cooks in the proverbial Distressed Richard kitchen anyway, so if they can stay quiet and out of the way it's all for the best.

Jared knows Richard has every right to be upset, but he finds the sight of Richard's red-rimmed eyes and unwashed hair almost physically painful. If Jared is being honest with himself, he's falling apart, too. It isn't on purpose - not some premeditated self-sabotage - but when Richard silently pushes the ramen noodles Erlich made for him away, Jared's stomach flip-flops in sympathy, and he can't fathom eating anything, either. 

This, of all things, Erlich really despises. If Richard is crying in the locked bathroom, Jared is hovering nervously outside said bathroom, looking a bit like he's been crying himself. It usually takes Erlich groaning and physically dragging Jared away to break up the truly pathetic scene.

"You need to pull it together," he grumbles warningly, jabbing a stubby finger just below Jared's sternum. Jared nods but doesn't trek too far, just in case Richard needs something when he finally decides to emerge. 

It's been four days - almost five, now - and Richard is sprawled on his stomach across the living room couch, zipped into a dirty sweatshirt with the hood pulled up to his eyes. Jared notes that it's almost midnight, and wonders if maybe Richard is finally asleep. He stands paralyzed, wondering if it's more considerate to help him to bed or to just let him stay here.

Richard offers up an exhausted, half-hearted little wave, signaling he's awake. Then the quiet voice that follows,

"Hey."

His voice is crackly and strained from disuse. Jared doesn't know whether to feel elated that Richard is finally talking to him or upset at how terribly Richard is still faring. 

"Hello," he replies, calmly as he can muster. He hears Erlich warning him to keep it together in the back of his mind.

Richard laughs in an unfamiliar, strained kind of way.

"Look. At. Me," Richard emphasizes every vaguely-slurred word. "Sad, huh? Paaaa _thetic_."

Jared sits beside him on the couch, managing to slot himself in near Richard's hip.

"I don't think so. I wish you wouldn't say that."

He fights the urge to take Richard's hand - the one slung bonelessly above his head, all the nails nervously bitten down. Richard shifts until he's on his back, looking up at Jared with a pinched, unreadable expression. He blinks up at him and the halo of light behind Jared's head for a moment.

"I'm sorry that I get this way," he says apologetically. Jared shakes his head as if to absolve the entire situation, but still thinks better of saying anything else.

"I just don't know what to do." 

"We'll figure out something," Jared consoles with gentle confidence. It isn't a lie. He's already been brainstorming a variety of strategies in secret, just in case Richard wakes up one day and wants to be CEO again, or start something new, or move back home, or whatever he wants. 

"Jared," Richard says, but the sentence halts there. He's looking up at him expectantly, like Jared might have some sort of wonderful answer. Jared wishes he truly did.

"Let's maybe get up," Jared says instead.

"Jared," he says again, almost warningly this time. "I had a bit -- I had a bit to drink."

"Okay," Jared replies tentatively, making sure everything about his tone is the picture of calmness, free of judgement. "Do you feel all right?"

Richard laughs out of the corner of his mouth, turning gracelessly back over onto his stomach with a grunt.

"No. But what else is new?" 

Jared knows Richard well enough to know he isn't worrying levels of inebriated, but the additional cocktail of four days worth of dejection and inactivity isn't helping things any. 

"Do you want to go outside for a little bit? I'll sit with you," Jared offers gently.

"It's dark," Richard replies.

"Weather's nice. It's quiet. No one will come bother you." 

Richard huffs out a shaky breath and buries his face in the throw pillow.

"Or maybe you want to shower? Change your clothes?"

That idea isn't even met with any response at all. Jared gently touches the dip in Richard's back between his shoulder blades. He almost says -- really is  _so close_  in that moment to addressing him as "honey," -- which he's never done before, never has even come near to letting slip. He can't think of a time in his life when he's ever called any person that nickname at all, but it feels startlingly natural in that moment. Jared tenses up and pulls his hand away from the warm body in front of him. He knows that isn't what friends call each other, and least of all coworkers. Very least of all coworkers in the midst of a crisis.

"Richard," he says instead, measuredly, carefully. "Please let me help you." 

Richard sucks in a deep breath and holds it for what feels to Jared like an eternity. It flashes through Jared's mind in a second of panic to shake him, aware this is maybe a little bit of that self-masochistic streak he sometimes sees in Richard. But then Richard exhales just as deeply and replies in a monotone,

"There's nothing anybody can do."

Jared knows what it feels like to be this hopeless. He does. He wants to take Richard by the shoulders and look into his eyes and insist, "Richard, I know, I know, I've been here,  _I know this_ " but he's not ready to share that part of himself, and maybe he's still a little afraid of what Richard will say when he sees it.

"Let's maybe get you to bed then, huh?" 

Richard nods almost imperceptibly. Jared slings a companionable arm around Richard's waist and helps him off the couch. Richard stumbles a bit before leaning hard, trustingly, into Jared's grip. 

"I've got you," Jared speaks into Richard's messy hair, feeling him press even closer. He doesn't smell  _good_  necessarily - but he does smell overwhelmingly like  _Richard_ , and it stirs something in Jared that he's a bit fearful of. The closeness, the care... it's all just too near to being something Jared desires. 

He helps Richard out of his three-day-old hoodie and into a soft, old sweatshirt he finds draped over a chair in his bedroom. Richard mumbles something that maybe is "thanks" but Jared doesn't press him to repeat it. It's a slow, almost laborious process helping him up the ladder and into bed, but Richard sighs contentedly once he gets there, and that makes it all worth the effort. 

"Goodnight, Richard," Jared says with unmasked affection, watching him settle in and pull the blankets up around his chin. "I'll get the lights on my way out."

Richard doesn't say anything. Which is, objectively, probably for the best. Jared clicks the small lamp on the desk off when he hears the sheets rustling behind him. 

"Wait," Richard calls out. Jared turns back around and can barely make out Richard's silhouette, even illuminated dimly by the light that trickles in from the open door to the hallway. Richard sighs into the silence. 

"Why did you think I could do this?"

"Because you can. And you have. And you will continue to," Jared responds without needing to even consider his answer. He nods once, sharply, like sealing an envelope, or putting a period at the end of a sentence. Richard doesn't respond. 

"I'm not wrong," Jared says, quieter this time. He closes the door behind him as he leaves.

\------

  
**_I'd like to talk in private_  **is the missive Jared sends via text to Erlich early the next morning.

**_U gonna murder me? Why private??_**  Erlich responds, but nonetheless meets Jared in his tiny guest house later that day.

"Make it quick," Erlich commands from the doorway. "I don't like Richard being alone in the house by himself." 

Jared steps aside and makes ample space for Erlich to stride in, like some kind of royalty. Erlich still gets an undeniable delight in knowing that Jared maybe fears and respects whatever it is he's about to bark out (but then, he'll occasionally tense up his whole body like preparing for an incoming punch, and that Erlich secretly but definitively could do without.)

"Actually," Jared says in that infuriatingly gentle, accommodating way, "that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What?"

"Richard," Jared clarifies. "It's obvious he isn't doing well." 

"Yeah, he's upset." Erlich scoffs, "Wouldn't you be? I've seen you cry at TV commercials."

"No, no, of course," Jared is quick to concur, nodding encouragingly, "Of course I would be. But this seems..." A quick pause. Jared fidgets nervously with the pocket on his button-down before turning to really face Erlich. "You've known Richard for longer than I have. Have you ever seen him this way before?"

The idea of having a personal conversation like this with Jared should be making his skin crawl, but instead Erlich is interested in what Jared is clearly angling to say.  _I can't believe I'm going soft_ , he considers to himself, as he admits, "No. I haven't."

Jared nods again, processing this. 

"Yes," he says quietly, more to himself than to Erlich.  

"And you're worried," Erlich says, but it's less a question than an invitation to keep explaining.

"I don't know what to do," Jared says shakily, and Erlich can see him swallow hard, bite back some sort of emotional outburst. This, he hates. There's no room for this. Not in their "friendship" (or whatever you'd call it), not in this tense situation, not when Richard is already lower than low and doesn't need a weeping Jared digging the proverbial grave.

"Okay, whatever," Erlich presses on gruffly, "So you're a great guy and you  _loooove_  Richard, and you're worried about him. What else is new? You want some sort of award? I'm worried, too."

"Yes, I know. I see that," Jared says diplomatically. "And you see the situation for what it is."

There's a strange silence where Erlich opens his mouth to retort something devastating, but slowly, clearly is realizing he and Jared are on the same page.

"Right," he says tersely, instead.

"In situations like this," Jared continues, "moments of conflict, great change, times of turmoil -- it helps to be objective. Take a step back and really look at the situation with a critical eye."

"Jesus, Jared, you don't need to SWOT it out for me. I get it."

"No, I don't think you do," Jared cuts in. It's a surprisingly assertive move for Jared, which leaves Erlich silent and raising an expectant eyebrow, more impressed than annoyed." 

"I'm not being objective," he continues. "I'm trying, but I find myself unable to remove myself from the situation. It might become harmful for those involved."

"So? You're saying, what, you care  _too_  much?"

Jared bites his bottom lip and doesn't respond, which Erlich takes as a tacit  _yes_. Instead, after a moment of consideration, Jared says,

"Richard is lucky to have someone like you. You care about his well-being, but not at the sake of his well-being. Do you understand?" 

"Maybe," Erlich concedes snippily, but his loose, surrendered posture reads affirmative.

"I think, maybe, I need to make myself a little more sparse. Which will allow you to make yourself as... available as you see fit. If that's all right with you."

Erlich would never admit this aloud, but he's never liked Jared more than in this moment. So he extends a hand, which Jared takes with tentative curiosity. Erlich shakes it firmly; looks Jared straight in the eye. Erlich has always been fantastic at sealing a deal.

Jared, despite himself, smiles.

\-------- 

Erlich realizes it's 10am when he walks back from Jared's next door. Seems as good a time as any to wake up and face the day. The house is still unbearably quiet. Erlich shoves any closed curtains aside and opens the windows, letting in the mild, comfortable breeze.

With deliberation, he throws open Richard's door. Jared had left it unlocked on his way out last night -- guess he's good for something after all. Richard is stretched out on his mattress, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He hardly even flinches at the sound of someone entering.

"Pancakes," Erlich demands. 

Richard sits up slowly. 

"What?" 

"I'm making pancakes. So get up." 

"No thanks, Erlich," Richard protests a bit apologetically, laying back down. He touches the collar of his Stanford sweatshirt absentmindedly. Funny. He doesn't remember changing into this.

"Not a question," Erlich barrels on, walking to Richard's bedside. "When I make pancakes they are fucking delicious. Champion's food. You hear me?"

Richard rolls away from him.

"Today's the day we kick some ass and figure out a game plan."

Richard's shoulders shrug almost imperceptibly. He mumbles what might be "what?" into the pillow.

"Unless you plan on spending the rest of your days sleeping in and jerking off miserably, we're gonna nail down your new position in Pied Piper. Or out of Pied Piper. Or get your CEO title back. Or cash in your stocks and buy you a fucking helicopter to crash into Laurie Bream's place -- I don't know! Whatever you want." 

"Not today, Erlich," Richard says pleadingly, and he can hear the desperation creeping into Richard's voice. It's T-Minus ten seconds until some tears well up in those big doe eyes, and then Erlich knows accomplishing anything else the rest of the day might as well be out the window.

So he climbs onto Richard's bed with surprising agility (and grace, if he might say so himself) and grabs Richard by the shoulders.

"Jesus, Erlich!" Richard hisses, trying to wriggle away. 

"Don't  _Jesus_  me, buddy," Erlich snaps, shaking him again for good measure. "Let's go. It's time. You are too smart and too valuable and too worthwhile to be laying around here while a bunch of shit-for-brain robo-drones abscond with  _your_  goddamn company." 

Richard blinks up at him, stunned and scared and impressed and a little moved.

"Pancakes," Erlich insists again. " _Capiche_?" Richard nods.

"Okay."

They both descend from the loft bed, Erlich leading triumphant and Richard just behind, a bit sheepish but not completely unhappy for once. 

"Let me, uh... let me get into some real clothes," Richard says. "I'll be out in a minute. Promise."

Erlich turns to leave and give him some privacy, but Richard asks in a small, almost embarrassed voice,

"Wh -- um... Where's Jared?"

"He had some important business to take care of. It's you and me today, kiddo."

Erlich shuts the door behind him, and shoots a text to Jared:

**_mission accomplished._ **

He begins pulling ingredients out of the cabinets when his phone buzzes with a response:

**_Thank you. Sincerely._ **

Then again, another buzz immediately after:

**_Richard takes his coffee with a sugar._ **

Erlich rolls his eyes so hard, he almost can't see straight long enough to angrily type back: 

**_I can handle this dickwad I've known Richard for longer than u_ **

Jared has the gall to send back a smiley face. Erlich might still murder him. Once Richard is back on his feet.


End file.
